Icy Nights
by TheAnonymousBlogger
Summary: John gets injured while on a chase. I don't know whether to add another chapter onto this, i think maybe i will so yeahhh haha.


Sometimes, John had to admit, chasing criminals over London could be quite a nuisance; especially when it was the middle of winter and pretty much every road and pavement was covered in a thick layer of ice. He was currently bringing up the rear in the chase and while Sherlock was somehow managing to close the gap between himself and the criminal - damn those long legs of his - John was still a good 5 meters behind trying to keep an eye on Sherlock and not slip over at the same time and frankly it was turning out to be rather difficult.

At that moment John looked up to see Sherlock leap into the air and throw himself on top of the criminal to prevent him from running any further but unfortunately while looking up to observe this he forgot about the ice covered pavements and had unknowingly ran onto a rather nasty sheet of black ice. Suddenly his left leg flew out in front of him while his right twisted beneath him as his whole body fell to the floor with a painful crack. John yelped at the pain searing through his right foot and ankle and began hoping to God that the crack he had heard was not his ankle, or any other bone for that matter.

Cautiously he shifted his body so that he was sat on the ice rather than his ankle and looked up to see how Sherlock was getting on with the criminal. He was rather suprised to see that Sherlock had managed to get the criminal into handcuffs - obviously stolen - and was now on his phone informing Lestrade of their most recent chase. John looked down at his ankle and pondered the possibility of him being able to get up and walk on it and before he was even given the chance to try he heard Sherlock approaching him.

"John, I know you get tired but I really don't think the icy floor is the best place to sit down."

John grimaced, "haha Sherlock hilarious, now if you wouldn't mind help me up."

Sherlock swooped down so that his arm was around Johns middle and with suprising care began to raise John off the icy floor.

"Can you walk?"

Slowly John took a cautious step forward but as soon as weight was placed onto his right ankle he tumbled forwards and was only prevented from landing flat on his face by Sherlocks strong arms grabbing him around the waist.

"Oh thanks."

Sherlock allowed John to put his arm around his shoulders before starting to walk slowly as John hopped towards the handcuffed criminal. Lestrade pulled up at that moment and lead the criminal into the back of another car before turning to John and Sherlock.

"What happened here?"

"John slipped and twisted his ankle, could be broken-"

"It's not broken," John chipped in more out of desperation than actual knowledge of the situation.

"It could be broken Jonn, but most likely is only sprained."

"Hmm okay, are you gonna take him to the hospital or do you want a lift home?"

"Home," was the reply he got off both John and Sherlock at the same time.

"Right you are, my cars empty so jump in the back and I'll be with you in a mo. But please Sherlock, how many times do I have to tell you, tell me before you go on a chase and there'll be less chance of this-" he flapped his arms wildly in Johns direction, "happening."

The drive home was quiet, not out of awkwardness but because nobody felt like talking. When they reached 221B Baker Street John thanked Lestrade for the lift while Sherlock jumped out and somewhat suprisingly ran around the car to help John out. He pulled the door open, allowed John to twist himself off the seat and then stooped down a bit to help John to stand. They then repeated the slow walk-hop over to the door and carefully up the stairs into their flat. When John was finally settled onto the sofa he spoke up.

"Thanks sherlock, you really didn't have to help me."

"On the contrary John, I did. Even you can't ignore the fact that you can not place any weight on your ankle at the moment without falling straight to the floor."

John grunted in reply as he pulled his foot up onto the sofa and pushed a cushion underneath it.

"Do you reckon you could get me some ice Sherlock?"

Sherlock left the room and John sighed. His ankle wasn't broken thank goodness but he still wouldn't be able to walk comfortably on it for a few weeks and certainly wouldn't be able to go running around the streets of London for at least a month! He was probably going to drive himself mad with worry about Sherlock before too long as well! He shook his head and pushed that thought away - he'd deal with that when it came to it. Sherlock came back into the room at that point with a bag of frozen peas wrapped in a tea towel and carefully he laid it over Johns swollen ankle.

"It's not broken."

"I know or I would have made you go to hospital."

"Hmm okay thanks sherlock."

"It's okay."

Silence fell but neither of them moved.

"John, I erm I'm sorry," Sherlock blurted before he could stop himself. He felt so guilty and he didn't understand why, well he did: it was his fault that John had been running around at that time of night in the icy weather and his fault that John had looked up to keep an eye on him. Damn John for worrying about him all the time.

"It's not your fault Sherlock."

"But it is."

"No you know full well that I wouldn't have left you to go on the chase on your own so stop saying sorry. We've both been injured loads before, it's just part of the job."

He smiled up at Sherlock to let him know that it was okay and was pleasantly suprised to see his smile reflected upon Sherlocks face. That settled it then, everything was okay.


End file.
